


Synchronicity

by DinoDina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, serious conversations while naked in bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: Ianto—like everyone else—has a clock on his right palm, telling him how much time he has until he meets his soulmate. But his clock is broken.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 12-31-16. Cross-posted on ffn.

Ianto kissed Jack's shoulder—the closest part of his body—and sat up. The pleasant, warm feeling of being thoroughly shagged was slowly ebbing away, being replaced by the cold of an unheated flat in the wintertime. Shivering slightly, he stood up and padded out into the hall, where he turned on the thermostat.

"Where are you?" Jack called from the bedroom.

"Coming!" he called back. Snagging a quilt from the closet in the hall, Ianto walked back, throwing himself into bed and burrowing into Jack's side.

Jack put an arm around his shoulders as Ianto half-lay on him and hugged his middle. "Cold?"

Ianto nodded. He pulled the blanket and quilt over them. "Not anymore."

Jack let out a short laugh. "You're adorable."

Pouting, Ianto grumbled. "Not adorable."

"Cute, then."

"Not cute."

"Keep telling yourself that." Jack laughed again, squeezing Ianto's shoulders in affection.

Ianto grinned, beginning to trace imaginary patterns on Jack's shoulder, where his hand was resting. Idly, he wondered what Jack, who'd gone suspiciously quiet, was thinking. He was surprised they were still awake, but practice made perfect.

"Penny for them?" Jack said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Your thoughts." Jack nudged Ianto's head with his chin. "Penny for them?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Not much." Ianto shrugged. "Just wool-gathering, I suppose."

"Well, you're way too serious for eleven in the evening," Jack decided, throwing off the blankets and flipping them over so he was straddling Ianto. "I must not be doing my job right."

Ianto laughed. "Trust me, that's not true."

"You're coherent. I'm _not_ doing my job right."

"You're ridiculous!"

Jack thought for a moment. He turned back to Ianto with a smile. "Yup."

"Absolutely ridiculous." Ianto lightly slapped his arm. He looked up at Jack expectantly.

Smiling, Jack nodded. He bent down and pressed a long kiss to Ianto's lips that was eagerly reciprocated; there were few things better than kissing him. Ianto moaned quietly as Jack continued kissing a trail along his jaw and down his neck. He proceeded down Ianto's left arm, then his right.

Jack was kissing the inside of Ianto's elbow when Ianto said, "You're a romantic!"

Jack paused. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Ianto grinned. "You, Jack Harkness, are disgustingly romantic. You like bringing me flowers, you like bringing me chocolate, you like cuddling while watching films, you give me random compliments—"

"Like you don't do any of those things," Jack defended himself. Ianto was just as romantic than him, if a bit more subtle about it. He sagged a bit. "You don't like it."

"I'm not saying that, no!" Ianto grasped his hand. "Of course I'm not saying that. I'm just saying: you like being gallant."

"And?"

"I think it's sweet."

"Oh." Jack swallowed. "That's… that's good. Nice. I—"

"Yeah."

And that was that. Jack moved down Ianto's arm again, kissing the top of his hand before kissing the tips of his fingers. They didn't hold hands often, but it was… well, putting it simply, it was nice.

"Hey, Ianto?" Jack asked, pausing in his kissing and holding his hand.

"Yes?"

"Can I see it?" He inclined his head to Ianto's hand, still nestled in his. Ianto tensed for a moment, then nodded. Jack was taken aback, but touched. "Thank you."

He knew how much it took for someone to willingly show their palm—their right palm—to a partner. Most people, at least those who knew it to be hopeless, didn't. To stave off heartbreak, Jack supposed. At any rate, neither he nor Ianto had shown each other.

He looked down to see that he still hadn't turned Ianto's hand over. Ianto looked up at him gently.

"It's broken, anyway," Ianto said softly.

"Broken?" Jack had never heard of Clocks being broken, but there was a first time for everything, especially with Torchwood looming over their heads.

"Yeah." He swallowed. "It's supposed to count down. From a certain point, at least, when everything in the universe aligns in order for your… _my_ … someone's soulmate… for someone to meet their soulmate. It's supposed to count down until the meeting, but you knew that. Mine… well, mine doesn't."

"It doesn't?" That was odd; Clocks always counted down, at least in Ianto's time.

"Counts up." Ianto closed his mouth and turned away. Jack didn't know if he was ashamed or scared or whatever other emotion his psyche had conjured up. He still hadn't turned over Ianto's hand. "Go on."

Jack turned over his hand. At first, he saw nothing wrong. It looked just as normal as his other hand, if slightly more callused. But a second glance made Jack raise his eyebrows. Ianto's Clock looked like it had been drawn with a calligraphic paintbrush, the black lines elegant but thick. The outline of a circle was clear, as were the decorative numbers around the face of the Clock. But inside it… _that_ was what Jack was looking at.

Ianto was right. Steadily, the small numbers—years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds—were rising.

"I don't know why it's like that," Ianto told him. "It just… is."

"You know," Jack answered conversationally, intertwining their fingers. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Don't be cryptic." Ianto tried to sit up, but Jack straddling him and having hold of one of his hands made the action difficult. He lay back down with a grunt. "Don't be cryptic, Jack, not right now."

"I'm not being cryptic."

"You're being mysterious." Ianto squeezed his hand. "Please, Jack. I know you know something!"

"Fine." Jack gave a put-upon sigh, but the smile on his face betrayed his feeling. "Ianto, you know that I was born in a time far into your future?"

"Yeah, 51st century."

"Well, I have some other evolutional advancements on you other than the ones I told you about." Jack wiggled nervously where he sat. Ianto glared. Jack remembered they were both naked. "Right, well… my Clock's a bit different from yours."

He flipped over his right hand—the one that wasn't holding Ianto's—and heard Ianto's sharp gasp.

"Yeah." Jack grinned. "Want to tell me when your Clock started counting up?"

Ianto mumbled something, still staring at Jack's hand.

"What was that?"

"When I met you."

"Exactly." An ecstatic feeling bubbled in his chest. Jack bent down to Ianto's lips, to another searing kiss. "Counting up from the moment soulmates—we—meet, letting them—us—document time together."

"So…"

"So, you, Ianto Jones, are not broken." Jack rolled off him, suddenly in too romantic a mood for what he'd been planning, and resumed his previous cuddling position. "And I guess you're stuck with me."


End file.
